


perturbation

by demotu



Series: attractor [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3089942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demotu/pseuds/demotu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timestamp for attractor: <em>Sometimes Jon checks Pat into the boards. Sometimes Pat slams him into a hotel-room dresser. Sometimes the rivalry is all Jon can see, and it makes him choke.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	perturbation

**Author's Note:**

> Drawn over from tumblr for completeness/ease of locating/permanence sake, per usual.

~

 

It’d be smarter if they fucked at Pat’s place in Philly, or Jon’s when they’re in Pittsburgh. It feels right, somehow, in the bland, beige spaces, with the low yellow lights and the familiar scent of the ubiquitous hotel laundry detergent. When Pat’s pressing his face into Jon’s own pillows, or kneeling in front of Jon’s couch, or pushing Jon up against the tile of Jon’s shower, Jon forgets. The monotony of a hotel room says  _impermanence_ , and it helps Jon remember that this is a lie.

So when Pat says,  _come over_ , Jon shakes his head and tells him to drive to the hotel. Pat’s mouth is a flat pink slash; unhappy like the bend of his elbow, like the shift of his knuckles under skin. They drive through the sickly orange glow that rises up from city streets, the dull purple sky descending around them as snow begins to fall in heavy flakes. Jon shuts his eyes against the haze of colour. 

"I hate this," Pat says when they’re standing in the room, six feet between them. "I wish you’d let me—"

"What do you want from me?" Jon says. "I can’t change shit."

The broken line of Pat’s mouth coils tight. Jon reaches for his tie, unknots it. 

It goes like this: Pat gets angry at Jon. Jon gets angry at the world. They fuck, and Pat turns sweet and Jon sad. It’s always the same, thumbs pressed to bruises that Jon calls spiritual in his most melancholic moments. 

Pat peels back his own layers, silhouetted by the city glow, baring his skin to Jon’s hungry gaze. Jon curls his fingers into the loose ends of his tie, banded tightly across the back of his neck, and rocks up on his toes. Pat slides into his space, sinuous and sublime and full of strength, pressing and pressing until Jon is stripped of everything but his clothes, fighting flickers of ice he’s never skated on. 

"I wish you were him," Jon gasps. 

Pat sinks his teeth into Jon’s collarbone, blunt pressure on bone, and Jon tips back his head with a sob. He curls his fingers into Pat’s hair and yanks, drawing his head back until Pat’s throat is spread below his mouth and working for air. 

"I wish I was him, too," Jon says, licking his apology along Pat’s neck. 

Pat doesn’t forgive him, finds his stomach unguarded with an elbow instead, knocking Jon’s breath away. Jon grips the dresser, sliding along slick palms. Pat ducks his head to unzip Jon’s fly and tug out his cock, falling to his knees. 

His palms slide up Jon’s thighs, his head stays bowed. Jon stares down, swallowing around a mouthful of spit, and takes in the jut of his shoulder blades, the bunched muscles and hollow curve of his spine and pink soles of his feet. The splay of his palms over Jon’s hips feels like a benediction, the tilt upwards of his chin, wide bright eyes and slick lips, an offering. 

Pat leans in until the tip of Jon’s cock slides over his cheek, leaving a thin damp trail. Jon clenches his hands on the dresser. 

"You’re for me," Pat says, voice all depth and certain knowledge. "Whoever you are, Jon, whoever I am—you’re for me."

He rounds his lips and takes Jon in. Jon shudders and closes his eyes and believes, if only in this liminal space between surrender and release.

 

~

 


End file.
